Broken Hallelujah
by Karen Winchester
Summary: Set in S14 *SPOILER ALERT. IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED THE FIRST EPISODE OF THIS NEW SEASON, PLEASE DON'T READ* Dean and Sam aren't doing good after he is saved. Dean is distant, broken. Sam is hurting too, and doesn't know how to get close to his brother. All that Dean Winchester wants is to have the smily and tall little brother he loves back. Will they fully recover this time?
1. Chapter 1

Broken Hallelujah

 _"He made broken look beautiful, and strong look invincible._

 _He walked with the universe on his shoulders, and made it_

 _look like a pair of wings."_

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Everything changed, everyone was different now, including himself. Two days had passed since he was back at the driver seat of his own mind and body, two days since he was _Dean_ again. Every 'adventure' had a start, and this one was his beginning...

The bunker used to be a quiet place to live, a place that he got to, finally, call _home_. Dean remembered the good old days, when he and Sam would live alone, making breakfast in a comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company.

Those memories were the ones he lived by these days, dreaming awake without other strange, but familiar people at the same time, glancing him at the slightlest move he made, their bodies tense and alert, flinching to his presence. He certainly did not miss these new people eating all their food, or claiming rooms, sometimes locking themselves in the five available bathrooms for hours, which created constant fights between them.

Jack was powerless, trying to learn how to fight like a full human, as his grace recharged. Lucifer was dead, but Nick, his vessel, was still alive and sitting in a bed in the middle of their dungeon, traumatized, barely speaking or eating. Sam was the one that took care of him the most, or so he had seen in the few times he had walked out of his room. Apparently, Nick would only open up to Sam. Maybe it was a thing they shared because both had been used by Lucifer. Maybe because they had both been abused by him, suffering, feeling guilty for the damage they caused. Needless to say, he knew now how that felt.

These other dimension survivors would even read books and forget to put them back where they belonged, which would have made Sam go crazy. When it came to organize books or those kind of OCD stuff, Sam was the first one to take control over everything he could manage. His little brother would have bitched about it to him,making him smile, but now, Sam would not care about it, making him be the obsessive one. Just freaking great...

He would have saved all those people again if he had to, but he really missed something he lacked off... and damn, that thing, or that who, better said, was his brother. Yeah, he missed the tall and smily little brother. That same man was now different, wearing a poker face all the time, being unreachable, if were honest to himself.

He had been in Sam's shoes before, seeing his little brother be possessed by Lucifer, failing at taking control of his own self. By that time, he could not know if Sam was still there, or if he had become just a ghost of the man he was, feeling his soul vanishing in the thin air sorrounding him, as if he had never existed before being possessed, as if he had never had a will to begin with. Maybe he had felt that same anger and fear running through his veins, trying to find his way home through the darkness. At least he felt that way.

The wound was still too fresh, and everything, even the smaller detail out of place, would trigger him. What he had been through was something... difficult to explain, and luckily, no one dared to ask him about what he had done or felt because of it. He barely talked, or made eye contact with other people, so they could not see how broken he actually was. The invisible blood of innocent people covered his hands, his whole damned body actually, but no one could see that. There was one person that could,one person that could read him as an open book, even if it were closed, but...

 _STOP IT_ , Dean told to himself.

Sam tried to get close once, but his dry response pushed him away, again. And now, he was alone, feeling sick by those pity looks on his loved ones faces, trying to patch him up, when he was bleeding out, dying in a very slow and painful way. He supposed that Sam was just giving him some time to recover. That was what he did too when Sam was having hallucinations. They could not talk about hell, because Sam didn't want to hear the pep talk about that everything was gonna be okay, so he just focused on fixing his beloved car till Sam opened up and told him he was not okay. His sibling would have to knock his room's door one day, freshly shaved, for God's sake, and in a silent way, sit down right next to him, waiting for Dean to talk first. He called that the 'Old Winchester Cure All Method'. It was mater of time before Sam would go back to his normal self, right? Would he be fine, too? Dean had to had hope, however, it was a difficult thing to retain when he was falling apart.

Saying yes to Michael had been the right desicion, but now knew that the consequences were even worse than the ones he had anticipated. Michael was determined to make this new world a better place, under his own point of view, of course. He was still out there, probably using another man's vessel, deciding who got to live or die, giving the monsters a free ride to be scary predators, protecting them under his big black wings.

Michael's thoughts invaded his head; they took his anger and frustration and turned it into something else. He twisted it, twisted his soul, shaping it as if his life were made out of fucking mud. He was not just a vessel. He was more than that, right? He had to believe that. Even if it sounded far from the truth that his broken self murmured to him in the long nights after he came back home.

Dean's voice was muted most of the time during his time as Michael, however, his eyes could still see everything. It was almost funny in a ironic way, since he loved the old black and white movies, where he got to analyze the characters intentions, wishes, plans and motivations. When he did that, he got to get some sort of fake sense of control over what sorroundings, studying every single move, trying to anticipate their actions before it happened. He'd never told that to Sam. It was pretty nerdy, and his pride was not ready to be ashamed by his intelectual, book eater, brother. There was no way he was gonna, ever, tell Sam anything about that. If it stole one smile from him though... Maybe he could try it some other day. He had to think about it, but later, when he were about to sleep. In that moment he would not be trying to pretend that he was living the life he wanted to live, he would not be trying to fake anything.

A loud noise interrupted his track of thoughts, sending him back to reality, back to his present. Dean registered and analyzed where the noise came from, making him unlock his room's door for the second time in the day, quickly running towards the kitchen, where, moments later, saw that Maggie was picking the pieces of broken plates, her body showing signs of being nervous and probably still shocked by what had happened to her. Poor girl, she had been brought back to life and been thrown into a new world where she could barely understand how people lived by pathetic rules and a president that sucked.

"I'm sorry-I didn't mean to- I just slipped" Maggie apologized to the people that were around her, finishing that night's meal.

"Maggie, there's nothing to be sorry for. They're just some broken plates. Don't worry about that" said Mary, smiling at her, trying to calm her down.

She smiled back at her, but when she looked down, desperation invaded her sense of control again. Her smile disappeared. She was not okay. No one was.

They weren't "just some broken plates". It was something that went wrong, something that people could have avoided, but no one cared enough to see it coming. Not even himself... Actions and consequences were a bitch. He and his family were the living proof of that.

Dean walked away from the kitchen, heading towards the only place he felt peace. His room.

While walking towards it, stopped in front of the library. Sam was sitting in front of one of the tables with some men, including Bobby and Castiel, but he was too focused on his laptop to hear what they were talking about. It looked like he had not slept in a very long time, his facial hair was still there, and stress was eating him alive. Dean didn't need to guess what he was looking for. He was looking for signs of Michael, or some hunt that he could be a part of to distact himself from the fact that his stupid big brother had screwed up everything, again. Dean felt guilty as hell. Sam didn't deserve this. He was just trying to protect his younger sibling, but he ended up hurting him in ways he could not even imagine. What a great job he was doing by taking care of Sammy.

Giving up his will to get near someone, at least to be updated on what was happening, decided to walk away. In the morning, he would not see his brother leave with some men to hunt a couple of werewolfes that were killing people in Texas, not showing up for two entire days. Again, it would be too late to protect his brother from the evil things out there. Was he evil? Did he have to protect Sam from himself as well?

Dean did not want to think about that just yet. One day, he would have to face what had happened, however that night, he chose to try to sleep and sink his problems away for a couple of hours, only to have another nightmare that did not let him sleep until six in the morning. He was so screwed...

 **Author's Note** **: Hey guys! This is gonna be a two-shot fiction. If you want me to keep on writing it, please leave a review :) Reviews are love! Hope you like this fic and enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it! See ya soon!**

 **KW.-**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 _"Irremediably, little by little, the distance between them became an insurmountable abyss."_

 _― Zøe Haslie, Just For A While_

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 **TWO DAYS AGO...**

 _Dean was back. He was back, for real this time, yet, he could not believe it. So many days he had hoped for this moment to come, even planning the words he was gonna say to him. He wanted to be by Dean's side, but the silence in the room consumed his will to talk or interact at all. Sam had practically grown up seeing his big brother as a fatherly/motherly figure since... forever. He could always sense what his brother felt, he could always comfort him, so why couldn'the speak right now? Why did he, suddenly, felt uncomfortable and wanted to run away from his family, his blood?_

 _Dean was a mess, avoiding Sam's pleading eyes, that with a silent scream, begged for him to do something, anything._

 _Mary had left them alone in Dean's room, where the elder Winchester was sitting in the opposite side of the bed, his fingers playing nervously with the bed's cover, twisting it, making its molecules crash between them, almost as if he could destroy his memories in the process._

 _"Dean" said Sam, almost whispering his name, his lips feeling heavy and unfamiliar with calling his brother's name. Four long weeks passed since he last said his name. Four weeks passed since he actually talked at all, at least when it was not necessary to do so. Sam wanted to continue talking, but he couldn't make out the words that wanted to be freed from his tormented mind._

 _Dean didn't say anything, didn't move or flinch. He looked like a damn statue._

 _"I know that this is- Dean... We will get through this, okay?" said Sam, this time a little louder. He got closer to Dean, wanting to touch his shoulder, but his brother's response made him back up. Dean had distanced himself from him again, moving farther, almost making his body fit in the tight space between the bed and the night table. It seemed that they were miles apart from each other, when they were hardly fifty centimeters away from touching their bodies.. He almost couldn't hear his brother's breathing pattern, which by the way, was agitated._

 _Sam sat on the other side of Dean's bed, feeling how his brother shifted positions, nervous and ashamed of his reaction. Sam knew how being used by an Archangel felt like. Damn, he had been tortured in hell by one for more years than he could count._

 _After a few minutes, the younger hunter got up on his feet and headed towards the door. His hand made contact with the handle of it, as he thought of his next move. He didn't want to insist, but he NEEDED his brother to say a word, to say his name. It sounded pretty lame to even think about it, but Dean always called his name with affection, with devoted love. Now, the sound of his voice was just a memory, a ghost that could not be hunted or ended. It felt like having a long and heavy chain tied to his feet, sinking him into a very anxious state that was hard to control, if not impossible._

 _A second went by, before Sam decided to walk away, closing the door behind him, feeling defeated._

 _During the weeks that his brother had been gone,he had barely touched a razor, plates with food on them, or closed his eyes to sleep. Alcohol and, sometimes, useless hunting trips to get some information about the lost Archangel, became his best friends. He was focused on finding Dean. His big brother meant more than everything he needed to live. Dean was his shadow, his other half, his weakness. If Dean was not around, he was already dead, so why bothering on eating or pretend he was okay? It was almost funny to think about how much he had changed since his brother was taken by Michael. He had always argued with his father, hating him for the life they were living, judging him for being so busy and cold, not acting like a father to them. Reality hit him, and a bitter smile on his face reminded him how messed up he was. He was just like his father now. People saw him as the new leader, they watched every move he made and were expectant to hear an order being barked to them. He felt disgusted of himself. Sam thought he was better than that. What did these people think of him when he acted like that? Did they really accept him as a new leader, or they just obeyed because they were afraid of saying 'No' to him?_

 _Running towards the closest bathroom, knelt in front of the toilet and puked saliva. He had nothing in his stomach to throw up. When was the last time he had actually cared about eating, and how many times had he heard the "You should eat something, take care of yourself. Everything's gonna be okay. You'll see.", coming from his family and apocalypse survivors?_

 **PRESENT TIME...**

"-You hear me?" asked Matt, one of the men that Sam saved from the alternative universe, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Sam flinched, cursing in silence when he was aware that he lost himself in his thoughts again. Sam, Matt, Jeffrey, Ray, Bryce and Martin left the bunker two days ago, going on a werewolf hunting trip. Apparently, Supernatural creatures were walking out of their hide spots, killing as many people as they wanted, not caring about the hunters anymore. Something had changed for them to take the risk of being tracked and hunted. One of the werewolves that was being interrogated said Michael's name when the pain was too much to handle, but didn't say anything else after that, which made Bryce mad. He stabbed him in the middle of the chest , in a very frustrated and violent way, his face going from white to an angry red color, eyes focused on the victim's face. He was a tough guy, one hell of a good fighter if he were honest to himself. He could easily be a well trained hunter if he decided to stay in this world.

"Yeah" answered Sam, picking up his duffel bag off the dirty ground, trying to clean a bloody stain on it. Not that that mattered anyway. He had to admit that hunting with these new people made the job a lot easier, but he would change it all in an instant if he could go back to the good old times when Dean was actually around. When things were not as messed up as there were now, they would both sit in the hood of the Impala when the sky was clear, staring at the stars, trying to name them; usually ending with Dean refusing to admit he could not named them all like Sam did.

 _"Well, at leats I can name most of them without being a nerd like you" Said Dean, pretending to be offended_

 _"One day you will have to say it, man. I am better at naming stars than you are. Have you even read the names in a book or what?" asked Sam, pretending to be surprised, smiling at Dean's moody face._

 _"No, I am not a book eater like you are. I saw a documentary... when I was bored and had nothing to watch, you know? I don't do those sort of things" said the elder brother, realizing that as he talked, he had admitted he watched a documentary about stars and the universe itself. He hid his red face from his brother, giving the burger in his hands another bite. It was almost cold, but it didn't matter. It was food, and it was pretty damn delicious!_

 _Sam laughed at him, before he finished his salad and diet Coke that came along with it. The silence took their unsaid words, making them resonate in the darkness._ _ **Love you, idiot**_ _._

Sam drove one of the many cars they owned now, his eyes focused on the road ahead of him. Every mile they left behind, it was a mile closer to his home, or better said, to the one person that made that place a home, even if he was still mentally absent. Sam guessed that Dean was still in his room, trapped in his self-hating cycle, that seem to never have an end.

He had to talk, he wanted to help, but Dean's last response to what he had said still burned on his skin like fire and consumed his mind.

 **"Leave me alone, Sam! That's enough! You can't help me, okay? You don't know a damn thing, so you better get the hell out of here before I kick your ass out on my own!"**

Sam closed his teary eyes, feeling defeated. What if he could not help his brother? What if the bond they shared were never restored? He would fight for it, and also kill Michael for hurting his brother in every single way possible.

It was a damn promisse...

 **Author's Note** **: Hye guys! Here's another chapter. I guess it won't be a two-shot fic now. Hope you don't mind about that! It's just that I m having too much fun writing about Sam and Dean being apart! Does that make me evil? Lol**

 **Anyways, pleeeease let me know what you think of this chapter through a nice review if you have a minute! Should I keep writing this fiction? See you soon, maybe ;) Love you all!**

 **KW.-**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 _"It's okay, you just forgot who you are._

 _Welcome back"_

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The first thing Dean became aware of when he woke up was the sound of a loud conversation going on, recognizing a particular voice he heard his entire life, wheter he enjoyed listening to it or not, depending on what it said. It was Sam's voice. His little brother had been gone for two days, but to him, each day lasted a damn year. Dean was either going crazy, or he was starting to forget his brother's features and routines. They were the smaller details that mattered, such as the dimples that appeared on his brother's face every time he smiled at him, the way he touched his long hair nervously when he was stressed or tired; even the spark of happiness in his eyes whenever they reunited with each other.

His heart ached, it hurt like it had been stabbed by the one thing he had never believed could be evil. A damn Archangel. In the better days, he would tease Sam for believing in angels and all that crap, denying their existence because thier mother believed in them too, yet, she died burning in the damn ceiling, suffering every second until her body stopped moving at all; turning their lives into ashes that were never recovered. Weren't angels supposed to be good and have fluffy soft wings? That was the picture the bible sold him. Now he understood why God left in the first place. The angels, God's children, turned out to be just another source of evilness in a world that was supposed to be his perfect creation.

He, now, felt empathy for the damn Lord, or Chuck, as he liked to be called these days. He had had a family, friends, two women he really loved. He thought he could live in the perfect world he created for the rest of his days, however, life proved him wrong. The women he loved were now away, and God knows where, yet safe and sound from him, which was worth the sacrifice. Most of his loved ones were dead or either had died before coming back to life again. He had been torned apart in hell for forty years by a demon called Alastair,swearing to never be abused again, just to be abused again by an Archangel many years later. He remembered what he had done. He could still see it every time he closed his eyes.

Dean was a strong man, and he had proven that to the world. At least he thought he had been through enough already. Could he be broken and tired of this life, enough to quit one day? He wanted to quit, but he never commented that to anyone. He wanted a normal life, he wanted to celebrate Halloween without thinking all the monsters he had hunted every time he saw a kid dressed as a vampire, werewolf or witch. Today was Halloween, and he was locked up by choice in his room with pizza, beers and horror movies. The marathon was interesting, but his body was tired, and so was his mind. He didn't mean to fall asleep, however, he admitted he felt a lot better when he woke up, specially since it was the first nap free off nightmares. He needed to keep fighting for his brother, his mother, Cass and Jack. He owed them that much.

As Michael, his agenda was busy, mainly based on torturing angels, demons and creating new kind of monsters. It was something he was not proud of, but he could not change what he had done. He allowed Michael in for Sam, for the well being of the entire world, yet, the sacrifices he and his family made seemed to be everytime greater and more painful as time went by. It was not fair. Now, he felt odd and angry at the world, at himself. He needed to get his life back, and sitting in his damn bed all day would not help to find the piece that was missing. Out of nothing, he felt the needed motivation to take a small step towards recovery. At least it was a positive thing to do. He needed a win, and he was gonna get it, even if it was the last thing he'd do. Dean was sure Sam needed a win too. It hurt like hell, but enough was enough.

Standing up and taking a deep breath, placed his hand on the cold handle of his bedroom's door, twisted it, and let the door open all the way through. There was no excuse to stay inside now. He could fit through that wide space, he could walk away from his comfort zone again. If he did not have the motivation to put himself back together, no one would be able help him.

Taking a deep breath, gave one step out of the room, his heart racing, almost exploding inside his chest. His hands became sweaty as he tried to take control of the situation.

 _Come on, Dean. He needs you. You gotta try this. Sammy needs you._

He followed the direction of the loud voices, being careful and silent, as if he could be invisible. If he didn't look at them, they wouldn't look at him, right?

 _Stupid kid logic_ , he thought, even if it was, in some weird way, kinda comforting.

Dean knew it was a dumb thing to do, but it was all he was hanging onto, until he found a familiar body in the crowded bunker. He gave quick glances at the surprised faces that, finally, saw him walk out of his room. What were they looking at? Were they going to make a freaking party for him or what?

 _Calm down, breathe_ , he thought to himself, recognizing the signs of anxiousness tensing his muscles, creating a frown on his forehead. He had to find Sam. He NEEDED to find him to keep on living. Without him, there was no point on fighting the good fight.

Once he stopped his tracks in front of the kitchen, saw his brother's back. His flannel was dirty and bloody, but he seemed to be okay. He could read his brother's movements, instantly knowing if he was okay, and luckily, that sixth sense had not vanished during the time he had been gone. Sam was sitting in front of Mary and Bobby, holding a cool beer in his left hand, talking about the hunting trip.

"-there were no casualties. I had to stitch Bryce, but nothing more than- What's going on?" asked Sam, confused. Dean figured out that Mary and Bobby were alert of his presence. When their eyes met, he saw the happiness mixed with confusion and hope.

"Dean... How are you doing, son?" Bobby asked carefully, like asking what kind of abuse a rescued child had gone though. Maybe he was just a scared and scarred child who learned to be thougher than he thought was possible.

Dean eyed Sam, seeing how he looked down and cleared his throat. He was clearly not expecting him to be there, standing on his own two feet, being brave enough to be out of the prison he created for himself over the past week.

"I'm fine" said Dean with low voice. It seemed like an eternity since he last talked to any of his loved ones, let alone the apocalypse survivors that lived under his roof. He wanted to speak louder, but he figured he would give one step at a time. There was no need to rush things and make a mess out of it.

Dean saw how Sam, quietly, almost automatically, moved to give him space to sit next to him. It was almost like a natural gesture, something that did not need to be asked for.

"Hey Samm- Sam... How was the hunting trip?" said Dean, thinking twice about every word that came out of his mouth. He could not forget that the last thing he said to him. Would Sam ever forgive him?

"I... It was not an easy hunting trip I guess... We killed a bunch of powerful werewolves, got tossed around, but we all survived. I guess that that is all that matters at the end of the day" said Sam, avoiding his big brother's green eyes, staring at him, screaming I'm sorry, little brother.

"You didn't get hurt, right?" asked the elder hunter, his big brother's instincts finally kicking in again, looking at his brother's body once more, insecure of missing a single detail. His eyes travelled through his arms, bearded face and torso, scanning him.

"Nothing too bad... Just some cuts and scratches. Nothing to worry about" said Sam, this time, his voice sounding tired, but a little more relaxed, like he was not holding an egg in a spoon and was forced to run without dropping it. He was not fragil. He was a damn Winchester, and things would be okay. They had to be.

Dean joined to the hunters, sitting next to his brother, feeling his heart beating faster and faster as the seconds flew by. He could get through this.

"So, I guess that this is just the beginning. We're gonna need more men to cover up some hunts. You cannot do things the way you used to anymore... I mean, a freaking big storm is coming, and we're all right under it" commented Bobby, who was playing with the half empty beer bottle in his hands, trying to sound calmed, so he would not trigger the elder hunter.

"Yeah, I am afraid that we'll have to go on a road trip again soon" answered Mary, sounding a little frustrated.

"Yeah, I guess so. But first I gotta talk to-" started saying Sam, when he was interrupted by his mother.

"You don't have to anything right now, Sam. You have to take a shower, eat real food and sleep. When was the last time you allowed yourself to close your eyes? You have to rest, Sam" said Mary, seeing Sam's pale face.

"Mary's right, you idjit. We're not going anywhere for today. Take a nap. We'll wake you up if something comes up" commented Bobby.

Sam looked at Mary, his gaze heading from her to Bobby, and last but not least, Dean. He was right there, sitting next to him. Sam was tired, but Dean was there. He needed to talk to him, ask him if he was okay, do something to get his brother to talk to him.

"They're right, Sammy. You should take some rest. I promise I will be here when you wake up." affirmed Dean, placing his hand on his brother's shoulder. He backed off when Sam hissed in pain. Confused, he looked at him, silently asking _What's wrong with you, little brother?_

"It's nothing... A werewolf hurt my shoulder. Nothing too serious" said Sam, trying to get away from Dean's sudden grasp. He didn't need to bother his brother with a stupid bleeding gash on his shoulder. He could take care of it.

"Sam" said Dean, using his father's voice, demanding an answer. _I'm not gonna let this go. I am not let you go again, Sam. I'm your big brother. It's my job, right? Look after my pain in the ass little brother._

"I can take care of it. I'm gonna go to my room now" said Sam, making his way out of the kitchen, sensing his brother's gaze focused on him. He started walking towards his room, through the long corridor of the bunker, feeling how the bandage making pressure on the wounded area was now soaked in blood, staining his flannel.

That was the last thing I needed, thought to himself, too focused on his hurt shoulder to notice the silent steps behind him, following him through the bunker in the distance.

Sam closed the door of his room, unbuttoned his long sleeve flannel, tossing it in the bed, and bent over to pick the first aid box that was under his bed. Dean always insisted on having one of them close, just in case he really needed it and couldn't reach each other to get help. With a shy smile that vanished from his face as soon as it appeared, cleaned his hands, getting ready stitching himself up.

He was about to start patching himself when someone opened the door without knocking. He didn't have to look up to see who it was.

"Hey, you lied to me, Sam. You told me it was just a scratch" said Dean, a little irritated, but worried sick about his brother, noticing the bloody bandage.

"I'm sorry, I- I didn't wanna bother you. I know you are not... doing so good lately. I can do this myself, you don't need to take care of me. I know how to do this"

"Are you kidding me, Sam? Stop saying bullshit" _Stupid little brother. Of course I have to take care of you. I need you to be okay, you idiot. Sorry for not being here to fix your broken soul before. I am here now._

Dean took the sewing needle from Sam's bloody hands and started to stitch his little brother's shoulder. Whenever Sam groaned in pain, Dean apologized. He knew how bad that hurt. The faster he fixed his brother, the faster he would recover. Time was something that was too precious to lose when you learned the lesson.

For the first time in weeks, Sam allowed himself to let a tear slid down his face. Dean, his Dean, was back. His big brother was back, and he was happier than he had ever been. No one but his brother could fix his world in a second, making everything better.

Once Dean finished healing Sam, he washed his hands, helped his brother get dressed, and forced him to go to bed. Sam obeyed, because he was drained, but was still alert and following Dean's moves with his hazel eyes. He didn't want his brother to go away. What had just happened seemed to be a nice dream, and he didn't want to let that go. Not now, not ever.

"Wait a minute, I'll be back, Sammy" said Dean with a smile on his face.

"Promise?" asked Sam, looking like the small and scared child Dean raised, asking for his brother to promise him that he and his father would come back home soon, safe and sound.

"Promise. Just hang in there. I'll be back in a minute" said Dean, before disappearing from sight one second later

Sam nodded, teary eyed. Dean was coming back. This was real. He closed his eyes and counted the seconds, trying to hold the broken pieces of his mind and soul together on his own. He needed to be strong for his brother. Dean needed him to be the one that carried the weight of the world this time, and he was gonna do it with a freaking smile on his face. Hell, he would do anything to help his big brother recover.

"Hey, you okay?" asked the elder brother, making him flinch. Sam was surprised to see him back again so soon.

The younger Winchester did not hear him coming back to his room. Maybe he had been gone for more than a minute, but that did not matter anymore. He was there now.

Sam nodded and then eyed the pillow and blankets that were on the ground, right next to his bed. They were Dean's.

Dean turned off the lights, and proceed to get comfortable on the floor, shifting positions until he found a good spot to lay on, closing his eyes, finally feeling peaceful.

He heard Sam shifting in his bed, moving closer to him, facing the side where he was lying on. It didn't take long until his younger brother started snoring, and his whole body relaxed. Dean got up quietly, taking his sweet time to see his brother's face. He did not look worried anymore. He looked like a little angel. Being careful, he removed Sam's bangs from his eyes and left the room, closing the door behind him. The bunker was now dead silent, and it felt so good! He walked towards the kitchen, finding Bobby still there, sitting, lost in his thoughts.

"What up Bobby?" , asked Dean, feeling good to talk now.

"When you were... you know... the Idjit of your brother did not sleep or eat anything. He let his beard grow and went crazy... He wanted to find you, and wouldn't hear to your mother when she asked him if he wanted her to help. It seemed that he wanted to do it on his own, ya know? When you sat next to him an hour ago, he changed, really changed. It was the first time in weeks that Sam was, well... the Sam I got to know in these short period of time I got to share with you boys. I know that what you went through was difficult, but I'm glad to see you back with us, son" commented Bobby while offering a cold beer to him.

Dean didn't answer, but accepted the beer with a smile. The two men sat in silence, breathing hope, happiness. Like he promised to his little brother, everything would be okay. He had a family that would help him heal. He had people who loved him and accepted him for who he was. That was all he needed to keep on fighting.

Little did he know, the next morning, Sam would show up looking like a normal human being, meaning he would not look so pale anymore, using a clean flannel and without that beard that made him look like the guy from the movie "Cast Away".

Dean was still hurting, but above all, he trying to do good things for him and his family, doing it succesfully after failing so many times. In that moment, he allowed himself to live the present, blocking all those memories that were invisible fresh scars on his body. Dean felt better now. He was home.

 **The end.-**

 **READ ME!**

 **...**

 **Author's Note: So, this is the end of this awesome adventure we've had. Thank you for all the reviews and follows. Above all, thank you for waiting for this update. It's always sad to finish a fiction that touched my heart, but not all endings are bad. Actually, like Chuck said once, NOTHING NEVER REALLY ENDS, RIGHT? Hope you enjoyed these chapters. I for sure did enjoy writing them! Please, leave a review if you have a minute. REVIEWS ARE LOVE :)**

 **KW.-**


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